It had been snowing since morning. By evening, the entire yard was blanketed in white, and the house’s windows glowed with a warm, golden light. The scent of cinnamon, roasted meat, and fresh pastries wafted from the kitchen. The Christmas tree twinkled in the living room, and glasses and festive tableware were already set out on the table. Everyone was gathered together. My parents sat opposite each other. My stepbrother, as always, was seated next to his girlfriend, Alisa. They had been dating for nearly a year, and in that time, she had become practically a part of our family. I sat across from them, trying not to pay attention to their familiar closeness. "So, a toast to Christmas?" my father said, raising his glass.

Then I shifted my gaze to Alisa. She was looking straight at me. And smiling. I stopped breathing. Her fingers tightened ever so slightly on my knee. What was she doing? I wanted to pull my leg away, but for some reason, I couldn't move. The usual family conversation continued at the table: my parents were discussing the holiday, and my brother was laughing at some joke. But I could hear only the sound of my own heartbeat. And she realized one terrible thing: that hand belonged to her.